


Poisoned Embrace

by Aikaterine



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asgard, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Thor: The Dark World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikaterine/pseuds/Aikaterine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor has decided to introduce his friends from Earth to Asgard, and Natasha is the guinea pig. Discovering that her tolerance to Asgardian parties is lower than she'd like, she retires early for the night. But then an unwelcome visitor enters his chambers. What should be a straight forward confrontation takes a turn that she would never have predicted. </p>
<p>I'll be honest, I just wanted an excuse to write some more Blackfrost smut. Post-Thor TDW so there is a fairly major spoiler if you haven't seen it yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poisoned Embrace

**Author's Note:**

> I've been home alone a lot this week because I'm still on my Christmas break from work. This idea would not leave me alone so I just went with it.
> 
> Last time I wrote Blackfrost I had Loki initiating, this time I wanted Natasha to be the one who started everything.

Her vision was blurred by a patchwork of gold, rainbows and darkness. She tried to focus, stumbling and reaching out to grasp a nearby column. It fell from her fingertips and she slumped unceremoniously against a wall. “Damn you Thor!” she cursed under her breath.

Natasha Romanov had been genetically modified as a child. As an adult one of the few perks was that her tolerance to alcohol was higher than most. Not so when the beverage in question was Asgardian mead. She made a mental note to refuse Thor’s drinking games next time.

That is, if there is a next time. In her slightly inebriated state, she wasn’t sure if she had insulted Asgardian etiquette in some way. Or perhaps they had decided that this mortal girl, though long lived compared to her contemporaries, wasn’t worthy of drinking in their halls after all.

She wasn’t even sure _why_ Thor insisted on bringing her here. His father was apparently refusing an audience with the “lowly Midgardians” Thor called friends.

But Thor had been quite distracted of late. He had lost his mother and his brother (again) in a very short amount of time. The former was a great shame, the latter…not so much. Though none of the other Avengers would say it to Thor’s face.

Thor had also refused the throne for a final time and taken up residence on Earth, mostly for Jane but partly to reconnect with his friends. Even so, the tragedies he had suffered or even those he had chosen made him home sick. He moped, he got drunk, he…on one occasion rather unwisely tried to start a fight with Banner.

Stark had suggested forging links with Thor’s world through the Avengers. _Of course_ , Stark wasn’t at all motivated by a desire to see Asgard and partake in their legendary parties…well, Thor hadn’t realised at least.

It was Natasha’s turn to spend a little quality time with the distant neighbours. In fact, she was the first of all of them. Thor had originally requested the Captain but one mention of the drinking culture there had turned him green. Natasha stepped in, much to Steve’s relief. _He owes me_ she thought.

Her quarters were not too far away from where she had tumbled. A few guards marched by, eyeing her with curiosity. But as they witnessed her claw her way steadily back to her feet they clearly decided she could handle herself. She wasn’t drunk, merely tipsy. And they had undoubtedly seen far worse.

She pushed open the great oak door before her. It creaked and groaned as it revealed the vast apartments beyond, bathed in the flicker of low candlelight. If these were the guest quarters she dreaded to think how elaborate and indulgent the royal quarters were – she supposed everything would be covered in gold. Asgardians were very fond of gold.

The huge four-poster bed in the centre of the biggest room was very tempting but first she needed a bath. She kicked off her boots and padded carefully towards the bathroom, reminding herself that falling into the marble crater sunken into the floor would be extremely undignified.

As though they sensed her presence, the faucets began to fill the marble hollow with warm cascades, steam curling over the edges as the water level rose. Mind-reading faucets, as if things weren’t creepy enough in this place!

She decided to push such concerns to the back of her mind. She shed her cat suit and sank into the welcoming embrace of a well-earned bath.

***

Much later Natasha awoke with a start. She had fallen asleep on top of her bed, clad in the long black silken robe Thor had left her as a welcoming gift. She sat up, drawing her knees under her chin and eyeing the darkness suspiciously.

Something was stirring, watching.

“Is someone there?” she called out hopefully, mostly hopeful that she was imagining things.

Nothing but silence greeted her.

She was too on edge now to resume sleeping so she leaned over, picking up a box of matches resting on the chest of drawers at her bedside. She struck one, willing her hands to stop trembling ever so slightly and lit the biggest candle within her reach. The other, smaller candles surrounding the bed appeared to sense her intention, flames flickering into existence of their own accord.

As the light and shadows entwined, dancing across the furthest reaches of the room, she saw something she had believed nobody would ever see again. She wasn’t frightened as her eyes fell upon a familiar shape and yet she still gasped, jumping in a way that scattered all the remaining matches across the floor.

The horned shadow chuckled, an unwelcome and sickening sound. Natasha willed this to be a nightmare, desperately clinging to the hope she was still passed out. Or perhaps the mead had poisoned her mind?

“You…you’re dead,” she said, her voice holding firm in spite of her hesitation.

“Am I?” replied the shadow “yes, I suppose I am…”

Natasha had no means of defending herself, no weapons. Everything she had brought with her was lying in a neat pile in the other room, her mind under the influence of mead apparently believing she was safe here. “Why don’t you come out and face me?” at the moment, bravado was the only defence she had.

She heard him shuffle forward, the darkness slipping away to reveal first the two great gilded horns of his helmet, and then his face, still twisted in spiteful cruelty. He was carrying a staff, though not the same one as before. That sceptre was safe, locked away in S.H.I.E.L.D’s vault.

His eyes were fixed upon her, unblinking. And suddenly she felt very exposed, even going as far as trying to pull her bath robe down over her ankles. She clutched a protective hand to her chest, staring back with angry defiance.

“Hello Agent Romanoff. It has been some time,” he smirked.

“This has to be a dream,” she snapped “or a nightmare. You would never be this dumb; you would never invade my privacy and expect to get out unharmed,”

He continued to move towards her, the base of this new sceptre clanking ominously against the floor with every step “Wouldn’t I?” he asked curiously “are you forgetting what I did to your precious birdman? Why would I, he who invaded the thoughts and memories of your companions, pay any mind to your privacy?”

He had a point.

“Don’t come any closer!” she hissed, holding up her hand, the rage burning in her eyes now.

He chuckled again, it was condescending…it was almost victorious. “If this is a dream why do you fear me? Perhaps I only came here to talk. I seem to recall you and your friends are extremely fond of talking to me,”

“That’s what worries me, you’re here to talk…you’re up to something,” she cautiously climbed off the bed, believing the best course of action was not to shrink against his attempts to intimidate her. No, instead she would try her best to tip the scales in her favour – whatever it took.

Then she was struck by an idea. It had the potential to go extremely wrong but hey, if this was really a dream then what did it matter? Never mind that she felt very much awake, she chose to ignore that reality.

She decided that threats would not disarm him. This required a different tactic, one that would definitely make him angry but perhaps wound him enough to get him to back off.

“What are you doing lurking in the shadows in _my_ bedroom really?” she asked, squaring up to him. “Is it because this is the only way you can see a woman up close?” she paused, her mouth curling up into a wry smile when she noticed him gritting his teeth. That was a sure sign he was rattled. “Or is it because you’re obsessed with me, because I best you in a battle of wits?”

“Enough!” he snarled, looming over her now so very close “if you think belittling my vanity will help you,” he said grasping her cheek and jaw in his empty hand, forcing her to look up at him “you are gravely mistaken,”

Natasha didn’t reply at first. She held his gaze, her stance fearless and cocky. Yet there was something else curling in the pit of her stomach, a heat coiling around her abdomen, between her legs…

_No!_ She was so _not_ turned on by this, not now. That wasn’t part of the plan.

Wanting to save face, she attempted to make this all about his shame. If he even had any, something told her that didn’t feature in his character.

“Come on Loki, it’s alright…don’t tell me you aren’t curious?” she said, reaching to flutter her fingertips along his cheekbone.

“Curious?” he was confused about her meaning, or at least pretending to be confused.

“About me…” she replied, lifting herself onto her tiptoes, her lips now agonisingly close to his. He turned his head away defiantly, prompting her to lean back slightly lest one of those ridiculous horns clobber her on the side of her head.

She stepped back, thumbing the cord around her waist, threatening to loosen it just enough. “Don’t you people ever do it?” she asked “or do baby gods grow in jars,”

“What are you babbling about woman? You are testing my patience, another word and I may no longer be amused by you,” he growled.

She ignored him, observing that his entire body was rigid, a desperate attempt to hide that she was affecting him. She smirked, wondering if there was a fire now burning in his loins too. After everything he had done, after what he had called her, she couldn’t believe she was seriously contemplating this but her need was becoming greater than her pride. Oh well, off at the deep end…

She licked her lips, undoing the knot at her waist, her robe held together by her grip alone “I’m _babbling_ about sex,” she said, allowing the robe to fall open and shrugging it from her shoulders. She was instantly covered in goose bumps as the cool air enveloped her flesh but she stood firm.

He continued to glare back at her, attempting to regard her with menace instead of what she intended. She knew she had already won, she could see his eyelids twitching in the gloom. He wanted to look away but wouldn’t allow his resolve to falter.

“You are treading dangerous ground Agent Romanov,” he warned.

“Am I? This isn’t what you bargained for is it? You thought you’d come in here and frighten me but instead…” she pressed her body against him, shuddering as she came into contact with a cocktail of pleasing sensations, metal and leather caressing her bare skin. “Here I am, offering myself to you,” she flattened one of her palms against his chest, splaying her fingers across the braiding fastened there and brought her mouth close to his again “are you tempted?”

“What makes you think I would even desire you? You -”

His breath hitched. Her hand had skimmed the length of his body and was now pressed firmly between his legs. He hated her for being so bold but hated himself even more for the physical response she managed to elicit. She almost grinned as she felt his cock twitch beneath her palm.

He cursed in a language she didn’t understand but his obvious frustration simply spurred her on; she began to massage him through the leather of his pants, all the while keeping her face close to his, enjoying the obvious torment that fell across his features. It didn’t take long at all for him to be fully erect, straining against her touch.

“My, it appears you are wielding a second staff, my lord,” she mocked. “Maybe if you take off that ridiculous helmet I might even kiss you,”

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. This Midgardian, this _woman_ had seized his curiosity ever since he had first encountered her. After all, her profession was to lie and manipulate. Those were two among his many talents and small part of him had to admire someone who used them successfully against him. But…

This one had also humiliated him. She had got him talking just enough so that he said too much. In the end his plan involving the Hulk had been pulled off better than he could imagine, but Natasha Romanov still had to pay for her insolence.

Taking inspiration from Natasha herself, he decided to play her at her own game. Yes, perhaps he would actually fuck her, allowing her to believe it was a triumph of her will over his desire. And when it was over he would remind her of what she had just done, remind her that she _wanted_ him to do it.

Without hesitation he used his magic to melt away the gilded armour covering his arms and torso, the horned helmet also disappearing into the ether. The golden sceptre too was spirited away, and then he wrapped his arms around her naked form, pulling her close so that he could crush his mouth to hers.

She responded instantly, her tongue begging entrance to his mouth. He parted his lips, deepening the kiss with a low growl rattling in his throat. Her arms found his neck, her fingers clasped together at the top of his spine, urging him closer still. She was hungry this mortal, and so passionate too. He could feel the heat radiating from her, her own desire flowing from her skin to his. Her mouth tasted so wanton, so base.

He considered removing the rest of his clothes and sheathing himself inside her then and there. She was certainly ready for him; the smell of her sex was clinging to the air. He imagined that her inner thighs were already slick with need but no…if he gave in too soon; his revenge would not nearly be as delicious.

He pushed her towards the bed, his kisses increasingly greedy and impatient. She fell back onto the soft furs and mountains of pillows, tangling his hair around her fingers, pulling him down to her. He nipped on her bottom lip and growled again, louder this time as he explored her body with his hands; taking care to avoid the place he knew she wanted him most.

Now she grew impatient, her fingers finding the collar of his long coat. She slipped the braiding of the lapels through her soft grip, pushing the material further apart as though she meant to encourage the coat away from his shoulders. She didn’t even give a damn about the complex network of buckles and straps covering his chest, where there’s a will…there’s a way.

His hands stilled, one rising to swiftly seize her by the wrists. His thumb and forefinger pressed lightly against the bones and he smiled. “All in good time pet, all in good time,”

“Really?” she gasped, as he covered her with his body, his mouth finding her throat. He sucked the skin there, trailing wet kisses along the line of her pulse, quietly chuckling as he felt her heart rate begin to surge beneath his touch. “Isn’t this killing you too?” she whimpered. Her back arched, almost twisting when his lips reached the swell of her breasts.

“Perhaps…” he whispered against her skin “it takes a lot to kill me little spider,” he flicked his tongue across one of her nipples, rewarded with another arch of her back. The pale flesh rose to a peak, welcoming his mouth as he sucked, harder than he had done on her throat but gentle enough so to not cause pain. There would be time for that...

“You know what I mean,” she replied, raising her legs to trap him between her thighs. 

Without a care for the fact that her core, dripping with desire, was rubbing against his clothes he responded in kind, pushing his hips hard into hers. “Not fair,” she moaned, stroking his hair as he trailed kisses down to her abdomen.

He nuzzled against her belly “I have endless amounts of patience,” he hummed, nipping a piece of her skin between his teeth. He felt her stomach taut beneath him. She was trying so hard not to respond, struggling so much to ignore the jolts of pleasure tingling at the base of her spine. He gripped her thighs, encouraging them to part around his shoulders. “What do you want from me, little spider?” he asked, though without a word he already knew the response.

“I won’t beg,” she replied.

He parted his lips and placed a long, wet kiss just above the short red curls between her legs. She shuddered beneath him, her breath coming in short audible pants. He glanced up at her, his eyes, an exquisite combination of blue and green, flashed with dark desire in the candlelight.

“Do you know that some in this realm named me Silver-tongue?”

She nodded “yes, it’s because you’re a liar. A deceiver. One who pours malice disguised as friendship into men’s ears and they listen,”

He laughed as he once again kissed her stomach then looked upon her face, grinning. “Allow me to demonstrate an alternative interpretation of that name,” he slithered down to her legs, his grip on her not faltering and pressed his lips to her right inner thigh. He sucked but didn’t bite, then swirled that famous tongue along the creamy flesh, lapping at the glistening wetness that had covered her skin. He stopped to lift his head “had I known I could have this effect on you, I would’ve done this much sooner,”

Oh he was definitely boasting and she was bored of him talking now.

She threaded his hair around her fingertips, gently pushing his head closer to the throbbing ache between her legs. He grabbed her hand, yanking it away to hold firmly at her side. Just as she felt she may actually explode with frustration, he sealed his mouth over that most sensitive bundle of nerves, his tongue darting out of his mouth to tease her with one, languid lick before he pulled away completely.

“You need to stay still little spider,” he said, releasing her hand so that he could simply grip both of her thighs again, pushing her entire body down against the mattress. When he utilised his full strength she could barely move, pinned helplessly beneath him.

He returned his mouth to her slit, his tongue lapping a long stripe between her folds until he reached her clit. He moaned softly against her as he felt those early, slow pulses of her ecstasy begin to build.

_“I really enjoy having you like this Natasha, spread out beneath me, so pliant and flushed with need,”_ his voice was inside her head, and echo of silken words magically invading every synapse, every fibre of her being. For a moment she was confused, glancing below, a searching expression on her face.

His mouth and tongue were still very much engaged, the coil of pleasure tightening deep inside her the proof.

“Oh God!” she exclaimed, in part because she felt she could crest at any moment, but mostly because she had realised there was literally no way to shut him up.

_“Yes I am, though you may use my name darling,”_ the ghostly voice said, demonstrating well that his conceit was limitless.

She had to admit that the trick with his voice did add to the experience. Not only was she being serviced so very expertly by his mouth but hearing those soft delicious tones of his at the same time was maddening. She was so close now, wishing so much that she could buck against the flicks of his tongue. He could least let her play with those long raven locks of his, curled like black tendrils against the white of her inner thighs. “Loki…” she whispered, gasping for air and her cheeks burning with shame.

_“Do you need to come, Natasha? It must be agony. I could leave you dangling over the precipice, crying out for that one last push…”_

“Shut up!” she shouted, followed by a lengthy moan as he slid two fingers inside her, the long slender digits easily finding the secret parts of her inner walls. He beckoned deep within her, opening her with a rhythm perfectly matching the precise movement of his tongue.

The coil in her stomach was crushed to breaking point, snapping like a burst of lightning setting every nerve ending alight. She was undone, head thrown back and her chest rapidly rising, falling.

He removed his fingers from her, fluttered lazy kisses along her thigh, back up to her breastbone. His weight shifted as he lightly pressed his palm to her left breast, cupping it, his thumb brushing across the nipple, flushed red.

“Your heart is banging like a little drum darling,” he said, thankfully out loud.

The disorientating fog of pleasure drifted from her, everything slowly coming back into focus “At least I have a heart,” she shot back, remembering his cruelty.

“Heh, unfortunately Natasha,” he said, sitting up with his knees resting either side of her waist “you are quite incorrect,” His long coat and every last buckle, fastening or scrap of leather on his upper body melted away in a shimmer a light. Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, taken off guard by the sight of him, his skin smooth alabaster but not sickly, his muscles lean and defined but not bulky.

Her gaze was then drawn to the centre of his chest. His flesh was jagged there, a slightly darker strip of white tainted red at the edges. He took her hands in his, stroking her knuckles as he brought her closer, flattening her palms against that horrid imperfection above his heart.

Something had pierced him here, something sharp and deadly. He had healed but not enough. There was a slight dip, rough to touch. She recognised it as the bite left by a large blade. She winced imagining how deep it must have penetrated, how much pain it must have inflicted.

“You really died…” she whispered.

He nodded, fingers entwined with hers, pressing her hands harder to his chest.

“But here you are,” she said.

“Here I am,” he replied, releasing her.

His heart was pounding, gathering speed as she smoothed her hands over his chest, sweeping her fingers along his collarbones. She lingered over his biceps, lightly squeezing, admiring the hidden power within his arms. She then returned her attention to his chest, the hammer of his heart strong underneath her tender caress.

“It seems you have a little drum of your own,” she remarked, tilting her head to invite a kiss. His lips were dark and wet with the taste of her. The fire between her legs reignited, her walls pulsing in anticipation, aching with a need to be filled.

She hooked her thumbs underneath the waistband of his pants, her hands searching for a fastening, anything that would get the damn things off. He chuckled against her mouth, breaking the kiss to admire her, a mischievous glint in his pale gaze. “Some assistance perhaps,” he said and with another glimmer of light he was naked.

Her tongue darted out of her mouth, moistening her lips quickly as suddenly they felt very dry.

She was trying not to stare, figuring his ego had already been fed quite enough for one night. His cock was long and thick, the head already glistening with precum. And god, she wanted it inside her _now_.

He took himself in his hand, adjusting the position of his lower body just enough to tease. He nudged the very tip of him against her clit, pressing hard enough to elicit a gasp. He could feel the heat of her, the wetness within coating them both as he slid his cock down between her swollen lips, still denying her that final push.

Her breath hitched as finally, he allowed the fantasy of anticipation to give way to reality. He entered her slowly, a deliberate decision on his part so that she would feel every inch stretching her, burning her. “Yes…” she hissed through her teeth “yes…”

And then he was still, taking a moment to enjoy the feel of her around him. She was so wet and yet so tight. He wondered if a mortal man may have spilled deep within her instantly. But he was no mortal, and he intended to prove that.

“Does my _staff_ please you?” he teased.

She raised her hips, desperate for some friction “it’s adequate,” she shot back.

“Don’t think you can deceive me Natasha,” he replied, withdrawing half way. “Your eyes were like saucers when I disrobed fully,” he nuzzled his face against her neck, his lips finding the skin there, sucking hard enough that a red welt formed beneath his teeth.

“Are you going to brag about it, or fuck me with it?” she asked, grasping the back of his head, pushing his face to hers, begging for another kiss.

He laughed into her mouth, thrusting his tongue against hers at the same moment his hips rolled forward, sheathing his cock completely inside her. She moaned into the kiss, scratching her nails down his back and clamping her legs around his waist and one thrust was followed by another, and another.

She gripped his sides between her thighs, attempting in vain to flip him over onto his back. As though he read her mind, or understood her intent, he rose up over her slightly, her knees bent over his forearms. She was completely opened up this way, allowing for a couple of shallow thrusts before he plunged back into her, gripping her tight as he fell backwards, pulling her on top.

“Enjoy darling,” he said, his hands now resting either side of her waist, guiding her movements.

She rutted against him, hard and wild. She could feel her climax slip closer, feeling her heart would burst as those familiar twinges in her loins returned. She shamelessly slipped a hand towards their joining, her fingers finding her clit. She rubbed at herself with frantic circular movements, feeling herself clench around him as he began to buck faster underneath.

It wasn’t a comment on his skill as a lover. She needed to touch herself, needed to feel the shudder of her own pleasure against her fingertips.

She cried out, coming so hard that she was struck by a temporary blindness, a hissing in her ears as the blood and ecstasy surged like wildfire through her body. She collapsed onto his chest, her arms boneless at her sides. He slowed his pace, allowing every pulse of her inner walls to vibrate against him, allowing her to recover as the aftershocks faded.

“I rather enjoyed the show Natasha, but I’m not finished with you yet,” he whispered into her ear.

She felt him slip out of her, leaving her empty, frustrated. Then there was a cool rush of air and she was sure she witnessed the room spin around them in a blaze of pale green light. The next thing she knew was the cool hardness of a wall pressing against her back.

He had teleported them across the room, the bed now a distant shadow in her line of vision. Candles were burning in this far corner too and she wasn’t sure if they always had been or this was his doing.

His intention soon became clear. He pushed her further against the wall, attacking her mouth with kisses so ravenous she knew her lips would be swollen in the morning. Her weight was nothing to him, he lifted her from the floor with ease, pinning her to the wall. She moaned into his mouth as he thrust into her, her core shuddering at the familiar delight of having him insider her again.

He fucked her hard against the wall, reckless, maddened with lust. He held her at just the right height so that he could nip the base of her throat between his teeth, panting hotly against her skin. She clenched around him, her body singing as another peak rose within her. He was so good at this, too good at this.

“Won’t you…” she gasped, her innards beginning to shudder and pulse “won’t you come with me Loki? Please,” she willed her body to hold off, keeping the peak just out of her reach, dangling so very close to the drop.

“Would that truly please you?” he held her still against the wall, buried to the hilt inside her.

She sucked in a long breath, her chest rising and falling underneath his lips. He cupped her jaw in the palm of his hand and she nodded.

He pulled out and she whined at the loss of contact. She slid limply down the wall, her feet eventually finding solid ground. Before she could think he had spun her around, pushed her head and upper body down onto a nearby table.

She splayed her fingers across the dark, carved wood, curved her spine towards him and braced herself. He nudged a knee between her thighs, encouraging her to stand with her legs further apart. She obeyed without question. His fingertips grazed her neck, her shoulder blades, down to the base of her spine. His palms rested against the very edge of her hipbones, he squeezed gently, pulling her closer.

“Yes, yes…like that,” she hissed as he entered her, deeper and deeper, this angle much more brutal than any other. The table scraped against the floor beneath them as they moved fluidly against one another, hips rolling desperately, thrusts increasingly erratic as a great pressure bubbled in the pit of their stomachs. He was moaning audibly now, his grunts and groans as incoherent as hers.

She felt him grow harder inside her, if that were even possible. They both surged forward, tumbling over the edge together in an eruption of white heat. He slammed a hand onto the wood beside her, holding steady to prevent his weight crushing her underneath.

They stayed together for a moment, gasping for air, heart rates slowing. She felt a tell-tale wetness begin to seep out of her and shifted slightly, his softening cock easily slipping from her.

She barely noticed the teleport this time. Her skin tingled as the magic covered her, whisking her to who knows where within the room, or maybe even outside?

It turned out that they hadn’t moved particularly far. The huge fire at the far end of her room had ignited and they lay entwined upon on a soft fur rug. He was settled between her legs, a warm woollen blanket covering their lower bodies. Her skin glistened with sweat, in part from their exertions but also as the heat of the flames caressed them.

He ghosted his fingers along her back, trailing kisses along her throat, down to her shoulder. A contented sigh escaped her lips, a flood of hormones bringing her back to reality with a rather inconvenient bump. She couldn’t deny who she was embracing, could not ignore the pleasure he’d caused.

Her moment of self-reflection was abruptly interrupted by his cock, hard and pressed firmly against her stomach. “Seriously?” she scoffed, arching a brow.

“I could lie with you day and night and never spend darling,” he said “but when I do, if the one in my bed is such a lovely shape, can I be blamed for wanting to have more?”

“Excuse me; I think you’ll find it’s my bed,”

He chuckled, raining chaste kisses upon her lips, nuzzling her jaw and placing a kiss there too. “My mistake,” he said.

“Sounds frustrating, denying your release while I get all the fun,”

“I don’t deny myself anything Natasha,” he replied, gently pulling her legs further apart, thrusting into her insatiable need “most of my pleasure derives from your completion, watching you, feeling you…”

It was slower this time. Almost romantic with the roaring fire, the silken caress of the furs. With anyone else this could be making love. But for her, love was a fantasy. A fiction people told one another to hide all the pain and hurt in the world.

No, this was still just fucking. And the man above her was still a dangerous psychopath.

She didn’t know how much time slipped away from them. She even lost track of how many times she climaxed, lost count of the number of times she shouted until hoarse. The fire was receding to burning embers by the time he spilled within her again, growling into her ear a string of foreign words that to her almost sounded poetic.

And now…now.

She regarded him curiously as he untangled his limbs from hers, his royal outfit returning to him as though nothing had occurred. Feeling exposed, she pulled the blanket up to her chin. The entire night was replaying in her mind, something that surely happened to another person. The only evidence of the reality was the stickiness between her legs, the top of her thighs slick with a mixture of them both.

A flash of magic shimmered over her, her bath robe reappearing, closed tight across her breast. “Thank you,” she said.

“I would not enjoy the thought of you being cold little spider, the sun is only just rising,” he replied, offering his hand to help her up. She was a little unsteady on her feet, every muscle aching, her head still swimming.

“The sun?” she asked, almost shocked.

His lips cracked into a slight, satisfied smirk. “It appears we fucked all night. I would apologise if you intended to sleep but…”

“You wanted to do it,” she said.

“ _You_ wanted me to do it,”

She made an exaggerated thoughtful sound “true,” she confessed “but it’s not like you can gloat about it, right? That means admitting you’re alive,”

Aha she had him there! There was a flicker of something on his face, the knowledge that his ultimate triumph was turning out to not be quite as delicious as he’d hoped.

“And what about you Agent Romanoff?” he asked.

Really, she thought, formalities _now_?

“What about me?”

“Will you run to my oafish brother? Tell him I still live? Or perhaps you’ll wait until your return to Midgard and inform the one called Fury,”

She chewed on her bottom lip, genuinely thoughtful this time as she paced around him, navigating the vast expanse of the room to perch on the edge of the bed. “So you can tell them I’ve been compromised, _physically_. Please, I saw through that one right away,” she replied.

“And if I am revealed to be alive?” he asked, moving towards her. He loomed over her, not to intimidate but to be able to study her, search her features for a motive. He smiled warmly, perhaps even betraying a genuine admiration for his adversary. “They will eventually discover your knowledge of my return,”

She snorted “I’ll deny everything, who will they believe more? You? Or me?” her tone was purely rhetorical. “They’ll never trust me completely, but all Nine Realms will fall from space before they ever trust you,” she said, underlining her point.

“My, this is a conundrum,” he replied. “Good morning to you Natasha,” he added with a small respectful bow “until next time,” He turned away as though to head for the door, though she knew he wouldn’t be leaving by the usual means.

“Wait!” she sprang from the bed, fearing he could disappear at any moment. “Next time,” she rose onto her tip toes, fastening her closed lips to his, an innocent gesture compared to everything else they’d shared. “Next time don’t sneak into my room while I’m asleep,”

“For that I apologise. I…” he was cut off, her forefinger pressed firmly to his mouth.

“I meant at least warn me first,” she said with a smirk. "Maybe I like this little game we played,"

He smiled at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He began to fade from view, leaving nothing but empty air and a slither of sunlight filtering through the drapes.

Natasha began to giggle, falling back onto the bed. This was absurd! She laughed harder still, amused rather than mortified at the thought the guards may have heard _everything_.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. Her laughter receded, now nothing more than a few amused sighs.

***

Natasha decided to skip meeting Thor for breakfast. She wasn’t sure if travelling by Bifrost on an empty stomach was wise but she had to power nap. Even genetically modified super soldiers needed some shut eye.

When she heard the gong sound for the end of the morning meal, she leapt out of bed, dressed quickly and gathered all her belongings. She fled from the room towards the Rainbow Bridge, dodging couples on their morning stroll and slipping past guards. One lady made an audible comment about Midgardians being uncouth, but Natasha let it wash over her.

Thor was waiting in the courtyard, his expression one of concern.

“Lady Natasha, are you well? You did not break your fast,” he reached for her, gently grasping her shoulder.

“Cool it Blondie,” she replied, affectionately stroking his hand “I didn’t sleep very well last night, that’s all,”

“If your chambers were unsatisfactory, if your bed was too hard, if there were not enough pillows, I promise Natasha, you will be quartered somewhere better next time,” said Thor, leading her towards the grand staircase. The Rainbow Bridge glittered in the near mid-morning sun, stretching into the horizon, inviting her home.

“Hey, your hospitality was fine. Your rooms _are fine_. I just didn’t sleep,” she assured him “besides, I can handle one rough night,”

They descended the staircase together, Thor exchanging pleasantries with friends and guards alike on the way.

 At the foot of the bridge, Natasha paused, craning her neck to take in the enormity of the city. It was still a dazzling sight, beautiful yet alien. Rows of columns expanded along the great yawning shoreline and suddenly, her eyes were drawn to one in particular.

She could never be certain, but she swore she saw Loki. He was leaning against a column, golden staff in hand, smirking and staring right at her. But as she walked on, the column covered him, her concentration broken.

The column receded and it was Odin Allfather who was standing tall and proud, clutching the sceptre as he observed his son lead the strange Midgardian girl back home. Thor acknowledged his father with a nod, Odin returning the gesture before his one all-seeing eye lingered over Natasha for a moment. And then he turned, disappearing into the grand halls beyond.

Natasha shook her head in disbelief, laughing at the absurdity. Loki would _not_ have an effect on her this bad, could not. Apparently mead and sleep deprivation were not a good combination.

“Natasha?” Thor’s voice invaded her thoughts “you were smiling, does something amuse you?"

“Oh…” she said, catching herself “that, no. Not at all, I’m just glad we’re going home, that’s all,” she paused, concerned she had caused offence “not that I don’t enjoy being here on Asgard of course,”

Thor threw back his head, a huge belly laugh erupting from his throat “I did not believe you meant to offend my friend. In fact, I am glad you also consider Midgard my home,”

She smiled weakly, attempting to push away the sense of guilt gnawing at her conscience. Thor was a good friend, a true warrior. He deserved more than anyone else to know his brother still lived. And yet…

That particular can of worms could wait.

“Hey Thor, the staff your father was carrying, is there more than one?” Natasha asked.

Thor was slightly taken aback, not doubt believing it was an oddly random query “there are many treasures within the Nine Realms Natasha Romanoff. My father speaks little of most. Perhaps there could be a twin,” he hesitated briefly “why do you ask?”

“Oh no reason,” she replied “I just thought I’d seen it somewhere…before,”

It couldn’t be, she thought. If it was the only staff of that appearance in the known universe, it could only mean one thing…

He wouldn’t!

He _so_ would.

No, it has to be sleep deprivation. Nothing like that could go unnoticed, surely? She shook her head, chastising herself for believing that anyone had the power to topple the most powerful god in all Asgard. She was seeing things. Yes, it was just her imagination.

Thor placed his hand on her shoulder a second time and rubbed, ripping her away from such intrusive thoughts. He smiled warmly.

They began the long walk towards the rainbow’s end, towards the guardian.

Thor regaled her with tales of his friends and what they had got up to after she had retired for the night. For now at least, it was almost as if she had been there.

**END**

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thor talking to Natasha at the end is the first time I've written Thor, so I hope I got his "voice" right.
> 
> I'm also working on a sequel to my other fic 'The Sweetest Lie' but it's multi-chapter so I don't want to post it before it's complete. I still get follows and reviews on a fic in another fandom I never finished about six years ago and it makes me feel terrible. Anyway, the sequel is nearly written and I hope to get it up soon because I'm getting married this year so I may not have much time for fic for a couple of months! :)
> 
> Now I've got to catch up on what everyone else has been writing!


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